This Love Is Not A Victory March
by thelilacfield
Summary: "Blaine, Santana just showed me an article on Jacob's blog! Why didn't you tell me you're pregnant? You could've told me you're having my baby!" - "Kurt, I…you don't know everything. I have to tell you something."
1. Part One

**Warning:** m-preg, infidelity, Eli C, Season 4 spoilers

* * *

This Love Is Not A Victory March

One

Life is like a hurricane: it sweeps people up and spins them through time, relentless and fast, until it clears and sets them down as if the eye of a storm never even passed over them, leaving them disoriented as life settles and brightens around them. Unfortunately for Blaine, he's still caught up in the eye of the storm, spinning faster and faster as chaos swirls with him.

It's hectic, to say the least. After his volatile break-up, he throws himself into everything without pausing to look before he leaps, quickly rising through the ranks to take over Superhero club, paying particular attention to his duties as glee club lead and senior class president, never allowing himself a moment alone to wallow in his burning-hot guilt.

It's obvious, then, that all the stress and the mounting number of responsibilities he keeps piling on himself is the reason he's been so sick lately. It seems as if even his sense of smell has gotten more sensitive, because the slightest whiff of cooking meat from the cafeteria sends him careening out of class or out of their extra glee club rehearsals to the nearest bathroom. He takes to stowing mouthwash in his locker, keeping gum with him at all times, taking every measure possible to try and keep his stomach settled, and yet nothing works.

And no one seems to notice. They don't offer help or chase after him when he runs from carefully organised formations and dance practices, and the only time anyone even acknowledges his return is Brittany offering him a lollipop, whispering that Quinn always said it helps with morning sickness.

Blaine scoffs at that. Even if he was pregnant, which he's not, because every boy has to have an examination at fourteen and his own diagnosis for the Hicksenburg Mutation returned to his parents negative, very much to their and his relief, then sucking lollipops doesn't help him at all and this is not morning sickness, but rather illness that strikes at the most inopportune of times.

The afternoon he finds a pamphlet emblazoned with _MEN CAN GET PREGNANT TOO: ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE HICKSENBURG MUTATION_ tucked into his locket is the day it's gone too far. He storms along to Ms. Pilsbury's office and knocks loudly on the door. "I'm not pregnant," he says immediately when she looks curiously up at him. "It's a stress-related illness, once I've got less on my plate it'll stop."

"Blaine, I've been watching you over these past few weeks, and from my point of view it appears that it's rather likely you could be pregnant," Ms. Pilsbury says with a sweetly sad smile at him. "Clearly, you weren't aware you're a carrier for the mutation, and those tests are still being tried and tested and improved, they're not infallible yet and people make mistakes. When was the last time you had sex without protection?"

"Only a few weeks ago, I don't think there'd be symptoms yet if I was pregnant, which I'm not," Blaine says, crossing his arm belligerently over his chest. "Can I go? I really should get home, I promised I wouldn't be late tonight."

"Blaine, this is serious, you need to take a test or see a doctor," Ms. Pilsbury says, her eyes steely. "If you are pregnant, which I am almost certain you are, then your entire life is going to change. As a senior, this is unfortunate timing for you. If you're going home, at least buy yourself a home pregnancy test and take it, then come back and see me tomorrow. I can give you the number of a clinic I know specialising in male pregnancies."

Blaine ends up locked in the bathroom an hour later, after a dinner thick with tension, his foot tapping dully against the tiles as he waits out the requisite two minutes for the life-changing white stick to confirm that the guidance counsellor is over-reacting and he is most certainly not pregnant.

When he's counted slowly to one hundred and twenty, then another thirty just to make sure, he takes the test from its carefully balanced spot on the edge of the sink, blinking hard and looking down.

No.

No…he's not.

God, yes he is.

_He's pregnant._

* * *

When Blaine goes back to Dalton, there's only one thing that really, truly hurts.

The blazer, the thing that used to symbolise him, his home, a person who was the leader of a choir, admired and praised and held up as a role model, doesn't fit him.

He knows he's pregnant, knows it's almost two months now and he can see in the mirror that he's starting to show, but this is the first evidence that things aren't always going to fit him. His body is changing, when he doesn't want it to, and he can't do anything to stop it.

Everyone knows. He told his parents himself, expecting them to turn to cold hostility and ignore him. Instead, his mother hugged him warmly, and his father laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, both of them promising to support him no matter the decisions he made regarding his child. Cooper and Natalie were both so shocked, but excited to be an uncle and auntie, not to mention that Natalie has dropped her façade of annoying younger sister to help him out with telling everyone else.

The school found out quickly, the first day someone saw him leaving Ms. Pilsbury's office with a pamphlet for the local clinic for male pregnancy clutched in his hand, and it spread quickly thanks to Jacob Ben Israel's blog and the school newspaper. He still stands with his head held high, no matter who titters at him in the corridors, who pokes whispered fun behind him in the lunch queue or the number of notes reading _slut_ he finds slipped onto his desk, into his locker, tucked just inside his satchel.

Kitty confronts him one day in an empty classroom, where he's found himself some privacy to work on choreography for Regionals, squinting to read the intricate swirls of Brittany's notes to help him out. "So who's the father of your baby, preggers?" she asks, a smirk twisting her lips.

"You know who he is, Kitty," he says, a little abrupt with her. He looks up as she slides into the seat opposite him, still smirking horribly.

"See, I don't think Kurt can actually be the daddy," Kitty says. "Because I happen to know that he left for New York in mid-September, and you didn't know you were pregnant until the end of October. And you would've last had sex with him in September, and you're not due until July. Unless you were super overdue, Kurt can't be the father, that would make you due in June."

Blaine blinks up at her, wondering where she learnt all this from, and he's thinking quickly, realising that what she says is the truth. The realisation floods over him, icy and awful and composed of regret and self-loathing: Eli got him pregnant.

"Oh God," he moans, collapsing onto the table and blinking back the tears burning fiercely behind his eyes. He hears Kitty make some vaguely concerned noise and she pats his shoulder as she leaves.

"Sorry, but someone had to figure it out, because you're obviously not going to admit it to yourself," she says, almost gently, as he listens to the soft sound of her footsteps leaving the room.

He gets home that night, head still reeling, heart still pounding and eyes still prickling with tears, to find that his mobile has been ringing in the depths of his bag for close to an hour. When he answers without checking caller ID, he hears Kurt's voice, breathless and high with excitement: "Blaine, Santana just showed me an article on Jacob's blog! Why didn't you tell me you're pregnant? You could've told me you're having my baby!"

Blaine brushes his hair back from his face, and he can't fight the tears coming now. "Kurt, I…you don't know everything. I have to tell you something."

* * *

Kurt won't speak to him. Won't reply to his texts. Won't email him. Vanishes when he logs onto Skype. Won't message him on Facebook or tweet him or reblog his posts on Tumblr. He's cut off all forms of communication and it _hurts_.

He gets a text after a week of desperate calls, pleas for Kurt to just listen in pixellated letters on a tiny screen, tweets and posts growing ever more obvious, begging for Kurt to just get in touch with him: **Stop trying to reach me.**

It's the last straw, and he hurls his phone across the room, hearing the crack and the shattering glass as it hits the wall with all the force he put behind the throw, seeing the pieces of what once held a hundred or more happy memories fall to the carpet without a sound, chest aching with heartbreak as he presses the pillow over his face and screams into it.

It reaches the Warblers next. Apparently it's not just McKinley that's buzzing with the news, and not even the whole town, but the entire state. Sebastian drops by, smug and smirking, telling Blaine, "The blogs are all a-buzzing with the word that you're in trouble," before Natalie forces him out with any number of dire threats. Trent is quieter when he arrives, voice soft and reassuring as he sits in almost silence, letting Blaine babble and cry and rant to him and nodding when it's appropriate for him to do so.

Blaine doesn't want the past to catch up with him. He wants to move on, adjust himself to fit the circumstance of a teenage boy pregnant with a child that is not his ex-boyfriend's, alter his clothes to match his changing physique and stand tall with a smile on his face.

Alas, we cannot evade our past, even to start our future, for mistakes we have made and demons we have smothered will always catch up to us.

On his birthday, early in December with the Christmas lights shining proud in every store window and ice paving the streets, making it so just popping out for a pint of milk is a challenge worthy of an Olympian, Tina and Sugar make it their job to give him a great time and take him out for the famed Lima Bean Christmas drinks, plying him with iced gingerbread and refusing to let the conversation stray to sad topic, keeping it as cheery and bright as the decorations dangling above them, swirling slowly over every table.

"Blaine? Blaine Anderson?" Blaine looks up, expecting to see someone else who's heard of his plight and wants to insult him or ask him a question he can't answer or touch his stomach for luck. Instead he sees a boy who's regretfully familiar, who he never wanted to see again, who is, for him, tangled with betrayal and self-loathing and absolute rock-bottom misery. "I heard about what you're going through."

"It's none of your business what he's going through," Tina snaps up at Eli, putting a comforting hand on Blaine's back. "Just leave us alone, we are trying to have one nice night out for his birthday."

"Tina, it's okay, it is his business," Blaine assures her softly, batting her hand away and looking into Eli's eyes, seeing the realization dawning there. "This is the man I regret ever even speaking to. He's the father."

* * *

Silence reigns over them, thick with tension as Blaine stares into the depths of his decaffeinated coffee, watching it swirl around the cup, the only sound his breathing and Eli's periodic sighs. Tina and Sugar left with awkward smiles to Eli and comforting touches to Blaine's shoulders and back, and since then neither of them has known what to say.

"So, um…do you want help from me?" Eli asks after a long moment of him quietly drumming his nails against the table. "I have a job, and it pays decently for what it is, I can give you money if that's what you want."

"I don't want anything from you," Blaine snaps, a little more venomously than he meant to. "No, I didn't mean it like that, I just…this is something I want to do alone. I have to do it alone. What happened between us was a mistake, and I was stupid and I broke my boyfriend's heart. I still love him, and I want him back, and having you around won't make that possible."

"You're not lying to him about being pregnant, or who the father is, are you?" Eli asks doubtfully, and Blaine sees him, seeing that he is a good person, and the regret swirls in his stomach, rising like bile in his throat. "I don't want to be a part of something like that."

"I didn't tell him I'm pregnant, at first, but he found out from this blog that someone who goes to my school runs that the graduates who I used to be friends with still follow to keep up with us, and when he called to scold me for not telling him about 'our' baby, I told him he's not the father," Blaine says, feeling the tears hot at the corners of her eyes, trying to escape. "He's furious with me. It's worse than when I told him I'd cheated. He won't talk to me, he won't respond to my emails, and he just texted me to tell me to stop trying to contact him at all. If only it was his, it could help to get him back to me, we could try and mend for his or her sake-"

"A kid would never fix it," Eli says, something unreadable in his eyes. "The only way to mend broken relationships is to talk it over. Maybe you just need to wait for him to make the first move back to you."

"Maybe," Blaine muses. He looks up and sees how sad Eli looks, eyes dim, and guilt floods molten hot into the pit of his stomach. "I'm so sorry for dragging you into this, Eli. It wasn't supposed to be anything more than one night. I didn't know this could happen, or I would've told you. I guess it was just sheer dumb luck that I never got pregnant before now."

Blaine checks his watch and stands abruptly, nearly sending the cold dregs of his drink flying. "I have to go home, or I'll miss curfew and my parents will murder me, they're so much more neurotic with the roads like this and me being pregnant," he says by way of explanation, pulling the coat as close around him as it will go and looping the scarf Kurt left behind for him around his neck. "It was nice to…talk with you, Eli. We should make this a regular thing. Here, I'll give you my number."

"I have you on Facebook, your mobile's on there," Eli says with a smile, and Blaine's heart wrenches in his chest, thinking of that familiar blue and white page he hasn't visited since that night, can't see over a friend's shoulders without feeling physically sick. "Blaine, before you go…I want you to take this." He unfurls a few ten dollar bills from his pocket and presses them into Blaine's hand. "Don't refuse to take it. I want you to have it, to help you and Kurt with the baby, and buy yourself some decent maternity clothes, or at least a way to alter the clothes you do have."

Blaine smiles uncertainly, and slips the money into the pocket of his coat, burying his hands in them as he leaves, breath hanging like sparkling cobwebs on the air before him as he slides and stumbles over the ice back to his car, and back home for the night, to lie in bed and let regret and longing take hold of him, not give in to the urge to call Kurt and try not to let too many tears seep into the cotton of his pillow case.

* * *

So I hope you all liked this start! Please let me know if you did :)


	2. Part Two

This Love Is Not A Victory March

Part Two

Christmas comes to Ohio, with a flurry of snowflakes and lights glistening, glowing oranges and reds and greens in every shop window, twinkling out from houses and wrapped thickly around proudly standing trees in front gardens. The streets are treacherous and the mere thought of stepping outside instils fear into many people, and most shake their head with a vicious fervency when asked to drive in the icy conditions.

The season affects everyone, all of them tangled up in dreams of kisses beneath the mistletoe, a white Christmas, gifts stacked high beneath the tree and chestnuts roasting on an open fire. It seems like, every way Blaine turns, people are singing festive songs, walking happily hand-in-hand, exchanging gifts and embracing beneath the sprigs of mistletoe pinned up across the school. He walks into the choir room one day to find Sugar and Artie singing _Baby, It's Cold Outside_, flirting shamelessly and chasing each other around the polished piano where Tina's playing the notes for them, and barely makes it to the bathroom before he throws up, slides to the floor by the sinks and cries.

With the Christmas recital coming up for them, every love song is quickly snatched up. Artie and Sugar put their names down for _Baby, It's Cold Outside_, and Blaine has to make sure to stay out of the choir room when they're rehearsing, because even the familiar opening notes make him feel sick. Unique picks up on _All I Want For Christmas Is You_, and pulls them all up to dance with her during every practice. _Jingle Bell Rock _goes to a grinning Sam, and Kitty and Sugar agree to back him up, leaving almost everyone in stitches after every practice with their dancing.

Blaine doesn't take a solo. He doesn't want to. All the songs remind him of happier times, and all that will happen if he stands onstage in front of the school is being heckled and booed, and he can't drag down the festive spirit all his friends are imbibed with by risking that. He'll sing back-up for Unique's opening number, and happily dance and sing during the group numbers, but he won't take his own song.

On the night before the show, Sugar takes them all out to shop and have dinner, paying for the food to everyone's incredible gratitude. It's the perfect occasion for the disorganised members of their group to buy their last-minute Christmas presents, and for those who thought ahead to supplement their gifts with a last few chocolate bars and scented candles. Tina immediately drags Unique and Brittany with her to try on dresses for the famous New Year's Party being hosted by Sam and Finn, courtesy of the Hummel-Hudsons, and Blaine follows the girls into the nearest shop, exploring the cufflinks for his father and brother, already prepared with earrings for his mother and plenty of those annoyingly loud silver bracelets for his sister.

With time on his hands, he's spent time preparing for the festive season, threading baubles for the fresh-smelling tree currently standing proud in the hall back home and glistening with strings of lights, jingling with the tiny bells wrapped around the trunk and decorated with a hundred or more tiny decorations, although the gingerbread they made was all eaten before it even made it to the tree. There's currently a neat stack of wrapped Christmas presents and written cards hidden beneath his bed to keep them from prying eyes, and this is just supplementing things he's picked out throughout the year with a few extras.

Or, at least, that's what he's hoping to do. Instead he finds himself with Brittany's hand like a vice on his arm, being dragged along behind her as she cheerfully declares, "We're going to buy you some new clothes, and it's our Christmas present to you."

"Look, Blaine, I love how you dress and everything, but you can't seriously expect to be able to keep wearing those tight jeans when you're pregnant and getting rounder every day," Tina says airily, already flipping through the racks of clothes.

Blaine sighs heavily and lets them hand clothes to him, stacking up and debating ideas over his head as if he's nothing more than a mannequin, steering him towards the changing rooms and somehow coercing him into trying on every piece of clothing they've picked out for him. When he stands and looks at himself in the mirror, he can see the more pronounced swell of his belly, growing with every passing week, and curves his hand around the small bump, this tangible proof that he has a baby growing within him.

They leave in a chattering throng, all swinging bags full to bursting with presents and new clothes for the festive season. Blaine sits at home that night, staring at the scarf he purchased on a whim, remembering how Kurt had hinted heavily over it for months, and now he had it in his bedroom, ready to be wrapped.

Before he can lose his nerve, he swathes the neatly-folded scarf in star-scattered paper, taping it firmly closed and adding it to the pile waiting to be passed around in school, and mailed to various people around the country.

* * *

Brittany's New Year's Eve party is interesting, to say the least. She made it an optional costume party, and is running around dressed as a Christmas bunny, flitting from group to group with fruit punch and bowls of popcorn. Someone brought alcohol, and probably spiked the punch, so Blaine's been sipping the same glass of water all night, perched on the sofa among his tipsy, dancing peers.

Eli's sitting next to him, fidgeting with his tie. Brittany invited him at the last minute with a chirpy declaration of, "The more the merrier!" He's been avoiding alcohol too, and they've been sitting together in awkward silence for much of the night while the beat of the music shakes the house and everyone dances around them, laughing and chattering and spilling drinks.

"One minute until midnight!" someone screeches in the depths of the house, and Blaine sighs heavily as people rush past them. Eli chuckles next to him, and Blaine hears the rustle of the upholstery as the boy shifts closer. When he turns his head, Eli's gazing at him, and the bottom drops out of his stomach.

There's a countdown being screamed out outside, and Blaine wants to get up and join them, get away from how Eli's looking at him, like he feels something.

The way Kurt used to gaze at him. Like he's madly in love.

"Happy New Year!" The cry echoes around the house and the street and the neighbourhood, as people yell and sing and cheer and kiss, fireworks crackling and whistling and going off like gunshots from every side.

Blaine barely registers the feeling of Eli's lips on his, soft and sweet, because all he can think of is that night, that settles hot and needling and awful in the pit of his stomach when he hears the grunts late at night, or when he sees his swelling belly in the mirror and remembers how it came to be.

He pushes Eli away, trying desperately not to cry, and leaves, swiping at his eyes violently with the back of his hand, rushing through the crowds out into the cold of the night, breath hitching as he dodges entwined couples to reach the end of the garden, where it's dark and quiet and beautifully solitary.

"Blaine, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable!" Eli shouts after him, catching up to him as Blaine closes his eyes to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. "I just…it's New Year's Eve and I really like you and I'm the father of that baby. I'd really like for us to be in a relationship."

"Eli, I'm sorry, I can't be with you," Blaine says, words hitching with suppressed sobs. "It's not fair to you, you'll always be second best to Kurt. I'm still in love with him, it was always him and you and I was…just a mistake."

He hears the sharp gasp Eli sucks in, knows he's hurt him by voicing aloud what he's been thinking for months. Eli's voice is unsteady as he says, "Fine. But you make sure, if you and him get back together, he knows how lucky he is to have you."

Blaine eventually trails back to the main party, still swollen-eyed from crying alone in the darkness, a long way from the celebrations. His phone starts ringing loudly when he spots Sugar and Tina waving at him, and he pulls it out to answer. "Hello?"

"Happy New Year, Blaine. Did I ever remember to thank you for my Christmas present? Thank you so much, it's so beautiful and I was so happy to see your handwriting on the box. I miss you like crazy."

"I miss you too." Blaine's eyes are welling with tears, and Tina's mouthing something concernedly at her, the movement of her lips veiled by his tears. "I'm glad you liked the present. I saw it when we were picking up some last-minute things and it made me think of you."

"I love it," Kurt says, and Blaine remembers those same words last Christmas, followed quickly by an _I love __**you**_. "Blaine, I…I've been doing a lot of thinking. And I know you don't want to be with the guy who's the father of your baby. And I'm trying to forgive you, but I just…I'm not there yet."

"It doesn't matter," Blaine breathes, a tear trickling down his cheek. "Kurt, I love you so much."

"I love you too." And with those words, four simple words, eleven letters that could be arranged to mean anything but mean so much like this, Kurt's gone, and Blaine's holding the phone to his heart, smiling incredulously and crying as the celebrations continue around him.

Kurt still loves him.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)


	3. Part Three

This Love Is Not A Victory March

Part Three

It's cold. So cold. Freezing, even. Lips move on the faces around him, in shouts and laughter and cheerful conversations, but he can't hear a thing past the rushing in his ears. All he hears is those eight words pounding like a pulse, like the steady foreboding beat of a drum: "We're going to throw a Sadie Hawkins dance."

No one else feels this way. People are excited, young girls shyly asking young boys to the dance, faces lighting up at their acceptances. Every way Blaine turns, he hears discussion of dresses and shoes and hairstyles, excited voices cataloguing every tiny quality of their dates.

All he feels is sick to his stomach. Sometimes, the growing bump is his only reassurance, and he'll find himself holding to it like its some kind of lucky charm, like his baby is all he has in the world. He remembers the last time he went to a dance like this, the screaming, the blood, the pain, the world spinning red and fading into black. And the physical things, the scar on his hip, the nightmares of a bat whistling through the air to crack across his ribs, the heartbreak when Ryan's parents moved him away and Blaine never saw him again.

He has to make his appearance there, though, he knows he does. Instead of trying to organise the dance and putting himself under that stress, he delegates everything to Sam and focuses on helping Tina and Artie create a setlist for Sectionals, since Vocal Adrenaline were disqualified for having members over high school age and they're lucky enough to be back in the game.

And so, on the night of the dance, he slicks his hair back, flat to his head, shuddering at the memories of thick fingers clenching into his curls, slips into the paternity suit Tina managed to find for him and pins the rose to his lapel, finding Tina waiting for him in the hallway, her dress red and black, like the flowers in her hair. His mother exclaims over them and takes so many pictures the flash is still wavering in front of their eyes as Tina slips her arm into his and walks him down the driveway to his car.

The dance is already well underway by the time they get there. Music is echoing from the school, and lights can be glimpsed wheeling and flashing from inside. "Say what you want about Sam," Tina says cheerfully, pulling a black mask and a red mask from her purse, "but he knows how to make something romantic." She carefully puts the red mask over Blaine's face, hiding his features and letting his eyes shine out, tracing a finger delicately over the black embroidery before slipping the black one over her own and hopping neatly out of the car.

Inside, the masquerade is utterly stunning to look upon, a hundred colours like the jewelled wings of a butterfly shining out at them as they walk arm-in-arm into the room. Sam and Unique greet them, Sam all in black with a mask like a stereotypical robber tied around his head and Unique clothed entirely in white, wearing an full-face mask studded with gold beads shining beneath the light.

It's an undeniably romantic night, which only makes it worse for those there with friends, there because they have to be, swaying beneath the revolving lights and dreaming of another's arms. Brittany's in the same situation, in her eye-catching orange dress and mask, dancing with Joe in his silvery grey, but her eyes are sad, heavy with longing, and saying that the only thing she really wants is to have Santana with her again.

"Do you want to go?" Tina enquires gently as Blaine dips her back with a heavy sigh that echoes over the music, looking up at him with concerned eyes behind her mask. "You don't look like you're having much fun. I'll stay and cover for you, but you can go, if you want. I won't be insulted."

"Thanks, Tina," Blaine says gratefully. "Call me tomorrow, tell me if anyone disgraces themselves. I can tell some of the football team are drunk from here." Tina giggles and hugs him tight for a second before letting him go, waving as he leaves and a smiling Brittany sweeps her up for a dance.

Blaine's fumbling with his keys, stifling a yawn and checking the time, surprised to see it's already past eleven, when he hears the footfall behind him and whips around, one hand flying instinctively to curve protectively over his bump.

They're there, three of them, football players with hulking builds and broad shoulders, their faces hidden behind masks. One of them is carrying a baseball bat, and Blaine remembers, the pain, the broken ribs, the week spent in hospital. If one of them hits him with it now, he'll lose the baby. The cold of this realisation steals over him like creeping ice, and he presses himself back against the car, trying to shrink into the metal body, shaking his head. "Please don't hurt me," he begs, hating how shaky his voice is, wanting to be brave even in the face of the trio. "You wouldn't hit someone expecting a baby, would you? It'll kill it."

"Why should we care?" asks the clear leader, smacking the bat threateningly against the open palm of his hand. "We just want to teach you a lesson, about what happens to freaky faggot mutants like you. If you lose the kid, more power to us."

Blaine sees the bat being raised, the boy's fists tightening around the wood, and closes his eyes to wait for the blow, wrapping his arms around himself in a futile attempt to protect the baby. One blow, and he or she will be gone. He'll be alone again.

But the blow never comes. Instead there's a screech, a scuffle and a lot of swearing, what sounds like a punch and then panting, the scrape of more feet on the ground, and Blaine opens his eyes, shaking, hearing whimpering that it takes him a second to realise is coming from him.

The entire glee club is standing around him, and Jake, Ryder and Sam all have hold of one of the boys who tried to assault him. Jake's wrestled his to the ground, and has a foot pressing hard between his shoulders, keeping him down. Sugar's seized the bat from whichever of them had it, and is now looking at it with terrified eyes as Joe takes it and starts walking back to the school to hand it over to a teacher, taking Sam, Jake, Ryder and the three hulking boys with him.

"Are you okay?" Kitty asks anxiously, her eyes flying over his face, looking for any sign of injury. "I heard screaming when I came out to get a bit of air, and then I saw you, and they were going to hit you and hurt you and kill the baby. So I ran at them shrieking, and it shocked them enough that it gave the guys time to come out and get hold of them."

"Why didn't you ask me to walk you to your car?!" Tina exclaims in frustration. "If you'd just told us something like this might happen, that you suspected it, I would've come with you. We would've given you a whole guard to keep you safe."

Blaine shakes off their attentions and Marley's offer to drive home with him, and they all drift back to the dance while he goes, ending up sitting in the driveway for ten minutes, crying into his hands, before he even considers climbing out and braving the still icy driveway to get back into the house.

When he's back in his room, having changed into his pyjamas and thrown the suit viciously into the corner, but placing the rose neatly on his nightstand, he grabs his phone and dials a familiar number. One he was promised he could always call if he needed somebody.

"Hello? Blaine? Hi, what's up?" Kurt's voice is bright, cheerful, happy to hear from him, and a sob is tearing its way from Blaine's lips before he can stop it. "Blaine, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"The dance, they…there were three of them, and one of them had a baseball bat and they wanted to…they were going to hit me, they wanted to kill my baby, and it…it was just like last time." Blaine can't stop himself from sobbing, clutching the phone closer to his ear as Kurt soothes him, whispering dire threats against the boys that make Blaine hiccup out a giggle between tears. If he tries hard enough, he can feel Kurt with him, kissing his forehead and holding him tight and promising everything will be all right.

* * *

It doesn't take long for Blaine, Tina and Artie to set up a setlist for Regionals that uses all the talent the group has, and for work on choreography to start, a ruthless schedule of rehearsals that begins to take over Blaine's life. Working around Tina, Unique and Marley, with their rendition of _Out Tonight_ and all its demanding choreography, as well as rehearsing the male-only number of _Don't Stop The Music_ and working with a nervous Sugar on her first solo, _I'll Make Love To You_, Blaine has everything falling on top of him.

He's not oblivious about the toll all the stress he has weighing heavy on his shoulders could have on his baby. He knows it's not good, but he can't stop it. He's the leader of the club, he can't let them all down when they're counting on him to be first flawless on vocals and choreography, ready for the competition that, for once, they've begun rehearsals for two months before the performance. If they don't win this, with the second chance they're already lucky to have, it'll be over for the year, and none of them want that.

One such rehearsal, underneath the lights that make even someone with a high tolerance to heat sweat and pant and feel the need to pour entire bottles of water directly over their head to cool down, has a horrible effect on Blaine. Rehearsing demanding choreography and vocals at five months pregnant, and really starting to obviously show now, is no small feat. He may not be leading anything, but the group is a machine, and it will only work if every piece works to the best of its ability.

His head is spinning and he's sweating profusely and no matter how much water he gulps down his throat is still dry, his voice rough as sandpaper. The tears come too quickly to his eyes at how useless he feels, unable to dance properly, unable to even sing. And the slight pains in his lower abdomen keep bothering him, and some neurotic part of his mind keeps telling him to stop the rehearsal and call an ambulance, but he ignores himself. It's nothing he can't power through.

When he nearly falls into Artie rehearsing _Don't Stop The Music_, Tina's head snaps up and she gives him a quelling look when he tries to argue that he's fine, eyebrows raised and hands on her hips. "I don't feel good," he finally admits beneath her steely gaze. "I'm just going to pop outside for some air. I'll feel better without the lights on me."

Tina pats his shoulder sympathetically and sends him on his way. Blaine does feel better once he's alone in the comparatively cool quiet of the corridor outside, sitting down in the alcove and rubbing a hand slowly over his belly, pressing the full bottle of water to his forehead with a grateful sigh at the shock of the cold to his overheated skin.

The pains in his abdomen still haven't stopped, despite the fact that his head has stopped swimming in a haze of heat, and he can breathe without his throat feeling rough and raw. They're getting worse, in fact, more a stab every few seconds than a constant ache, and he presses his hand to his bump, hoping this is just the baby kicking him too hard or something, pressing against something that's making his entire abdomen ache, spreading upwards to his chest and making it hard to breathe.

His vision spots with black, and he curves both hands around his bump in a final desperate attempt to hold the baby and keep it safe. He has to be losing it, that's the only explanation for the pains, and for the blood he can see smeared on the bench when he staggers upright in an attempt to get back to the auditorium, to ask someone for help.

The world lurches, and he falls, seemingly forever, the floor rushing up to swallow him into blackness. The last thing he breathes, as his vision slowly fades to black and everything absorbs into nothing, is a soft, pleading, "Kurt," into the silence.

Then, nothing.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next one is one I'm particularly proud of!


	4. Part Four

**Warnings: **Mpreg, infidelity, Eli C, season 4 spoilers, blood, major angst and medical jargon

**This chapter was edited and the plot changed, please read again.**

* * *

This Love Is Not A Victory March

Part Four

"Kitty, go check on Blaine," Tina orders. "Rest of you, up, we're going to practise the _Out Tonight_ choreography again."

"Why do I have to do it?" Kitty whines, fixing her hair as everyone groans and grumbles their way back onto their feet.

"You don't have a solo for Regionals, and you have the choreography pretty much down, now go make sure he's alright," Tina says, already half-absorbed in the choreography plans.

Kitty sighs heavily and trudges out of the auditorium, humming the song to herself and dancing a few of the steps as she navigates the twisted backstage corridors to get into the main body of the school. "Blaine, you doing okay out here?" she calls. "Are you okay to come back in now? Had enough air?"

She rounds the corner, brows furrowing at the lack of response. People can say what they want about Blaine's recent life choices, but he's a gentleman, and when he knows people are worrying about him, he would call out to her to tell her he's okay, whether or not he wants to come back and join them. "Blaine?!" She looks into the benched alcove where people go to sit when they need air during rehearsals - she's been there herself when Coach Sylvester gets incredibly bitchy when they're practicing - and can't see Blaine sitting there.

Panic is already curling in her stomach when she runs towards the alcove and sees Blaine on the floor, skin ashen and tinged with grey, eyes closed and lips a pale blue. "Blaine!"

"What's all the yelling about?" comes a voice, and she whirls round to find Artie there, eyes flickering from her to Blaine and resting, horrified, on the unconscious form of the pregnant boy. "Oh my God." He turns himself expertly around and cups his hands to his mouth as he hollers, "Hey, you lot, get out here and someone call an ambulance, Blaine's fainted!"

Marley arrives on the scene first, dropping to her knees and grabbing Blaine's wrist, pressing two fingers against the skin to take a pulse. "Grab his phone, we should get hold of his parents," she orders, and Kitty nods shakily, grabbing up the device.

"There's blood," Sam murmurs behind them, and their heads whip round in a synchronisation that would be comedic if this wasn't all so horrifying. "On the bench, and on the floor and, oh God, all over his jeans. He must...he must be losing the baby."

They all fly into a flurry of activity then, phones coming out of pockets from all over and everyone's voices loud and panicky, talking to emergency phone-line operators and hospital switchboards, Kitty with Blaine's father's dragon of a secretary and Sam kneeling over Blaine, brushing his hair back from his forehead and staring at him like he's going to die, and they're all going to miss him more than they could ever say.

"Kurt, where are you? It sounds so loud. Oh, right, dance class. Can you get out of there? I need to tell you-"

"What are you doing?" Brittany squeaks at Tina, her eyes wild with panic and staring at the girl with her phone pressed to her ear. "Why are you telling Kurt?"

"Yeah, I'll give you a minute to get out," Tina says into the phone, then presses it into her neck as she snaps, "You don't think Kurt would want to know if something happened to Blaine? I'm telling him, and don't try and stop me. We all know Kurt would want to be here for him, and there's no one Blaine would rather see when he wakes up."

"Ambulance is on its way," Sugar says, slipping her mobile back into her bag. "Is Blaine gonna be okay? Is the baby gonna die? I'll call my dad at the hospital and make him tell the doctors to do everything they can. We can't let the baby die."

Surprisingly, no one's crying, not even the usual suspects. It seems as if it hasn't quite sunk in yet, that they're all kneeling on the floors of the school around an unconscious friend who is very possibly losing a baby. "Guys, what are you doing out here?" Mr. Schuester calls sharply. "You're supposed to be rehearsing, back on-stage and let me see what you've practiced."

Unique stands up, stepping aside to put Blaine's form on the ground clearly in their teacher''s sights. "With all due respect, Mr. Schuester, there will be no more rehearsing until we've gotten Blaine to the hospital and we know he's going to be okay."

"Kurt's on his way," Tina says, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "I think I've just left the airport staff in New York to deal with a completely hysterical teenager attempting to buy a last-minute ticket to Ohio, but that's their job." She checks her watch, face pinched with worry as she looks down at Blaine, seemingly growing paler where he's lying, looking so peaceful. "How soon do you think the ambulance will be here?"

Sirens sound outside, and there's a surge of students running from their classrooms to see whether it's a police car, ambulance or fire engine. "Right about now," Jake says dryly, and him, Ryder, Joe and Sam all carefully manoeuvre Blaine into their arms, carrying his limp, heavy form out to meet the paramedics, who strap him onto a stretcher.

"He said he felt ill in rehearsal, and he went outside to get some air, and Kitty went to check on him and found him unconscious on the floor," Tina's telling one of the paramedics. "He just collapsed, I think, we left him alone out there because he insisted he was fine and we really needed to rehearse, the competition's in a week. There was blood where he was sitting and where he was lying and it's all over his clothes, he's twenty-six weeks pregnant, and we th-think he might be losing the baby. Please don't let that happen."

"We'll do our best, dear," the woman says gently. "You guys can't come in the ambulance with him, but you can all follow us there in your cars and I'll make sure to let reception know where we're taking him so they can direct you to a waiting room."

They all nod and stand back as the ambulance roars away with its sirens screaming. Then, and only then, do they allow themselves to shed tears as they climb into various cars and start off for the hospital.

* * *

Kurt's sitting in the waiting room, with Tina at his side, her head nestled into his shoulder and the creased material of his shirt wet with her near-constant tears, squeezing her hand gently as she sniffs, looking up to the clock on the wall to see they've been sitting here for close to three hours without any update on what's happened to Blaine or the baby, and it's been half an hour since Artie, Sam and Brittany left, begging them to text as soon as they knew anything, which they still don't.

For the last few weeks, he's been thinking about calling Blaine and asking if he could come to Ohio for them to talk, planning to tell Blaine he's still in love with him, that he's thought a lot and trusts him again and wants to try, and now he might lose him before he ever gets to tell him, or he might only have a broken shell of the boy he fell in love with, having lost the baby he waited so long and longed so passionately for. Even though it wasn't their baby, Blaine told Kurt so many times he couldn't wait to meet him or her, and now the baby might be gone and never know his father. He can't quite admit it aloud yet, but he has started looking forward to the idea of having a baby with Blaine, thinking about names and nursery colour schemes and quietly searching for an apartment to fit the two of them and their baby, and he's slowly watching all the plans for their future crumbling in the wake of the solemn face of the doctor who walks in and gently asks them, "Are you here for Blaine Anderson?"

"Yes we are, but we aren't strictly family," Tina says softly, tugging Kurt upright. "His parents and brother are out of town right now and we're the ones closest to him. I know information is confidential, but can you please tell us?"

"You are Kurt Hummel, yes?" the doctor asks, turning his gaze on Kurt, and he nods shakily, not trusting himself to speak without breaking down. "You're listed as Blaine's emergency contact, so we are permitted to tell you his situation." He pulls over a chair and sits them both down, face in a mask of comfort and reassurance. "Blaine had what's called a placental abruption," he explained, his voice solemn. "The placenta separated from the uterus wall, causing some serious internal bleeding. Both Blaine and the baby were under a great deal of distress and we had no choice but to deliver the baby via C-section. Because of the nature of the abruption, Blaine had some severe tissue damage which caused him to have a postpartum haemorrhage after the C-section and he lost a large quantity of blood. We managed to get the bleeding under control, but it was very touch and go. Blaine flatlined once, and if he wasn't such a fighter I wouldn't have expected him to pull through as he did. We're giving him several blood transfusions now and we've managed to keep him mostly stabilized."

Kurt takes a shaky breath, the doctors words echoing in his head as he pauses. Words like _haemorrhage_ and _touch and go_ and _flatlined_ echo in his ears, loud as the beat of his frantic heart, and Kurt thinks he might be sick. Tina is shaking and breathing slowly next to him, her hand clutching at his wrist so tight she's making the tips of his fingers tingle with the lack of circulation the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Blaine is very lucky to be alive," the doctor continued after what he must deem an appropriate amount of time for this horrifying information to sink in. "Due to the amount of blood lost and the trauma he suffered, he is at risk for brain damage, but we won't be able to tell until he wakes up." He pauses again and looks between them, Tina dabbing at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve and Kurt ashen and frozen, unable to speak, the words _lucky to be alive_ circulating through his head, cold stealing over him where he sits, before continuing, "The baby was taken to the neonatal intensive care. They are still doing all they can to save her, but because of the nature of the placental abruption and the fact that she's extremely premature I want you to be prepared that there is a chance she won't make it. I'll be back in to see you as we know more, and to inform you when you can see father or daughter."

The doctor leaves, slips back down the Intensive Care corridor, and Kurt doesn't realize he's crying until Tina presses a tissue into his hand and squeezes his shoulder, a thready sigh leaving her lips as she leans heavily against him. "Well, that's good, right?" she asks softly. "Blaine's okay, and they're keeping the baby alive, and it's a little girl. Isn't that good?"

Bursting into tears, Kurt shakes his head as she rubs his back in slow circles, sobbing out, "It's not, it's not good, Blaine could still die, he almost did, and the baby might die and Blaine would be destroyed, he wants her so much and...and so do I. I want a life with Blaine, with him and with the baby, and if she dies Blaine won't be himself ever again and we won't have a family. I just want them both to be healthy."

"Oh sweetie," Tina murmurs, and hugs him, hooking her chin over his shoulder and rubbing his shuddering shoulders gently. "He'll be fine, okay, and so will the baby. You're going to have your boyfriend back, and have a beautiful baby girl for both of you to love for the rest of your lives, and soon the doctor's going to come back and tell us we can see one of them."

An hour ticks by. Another half an hour passes, and then an apologetic nurse with a gentle manner and cool hands on their sob-wracked bodies ushers them out, telling them visiting hours are over but for immediate family, and there's nothing she can do. They have to go home and sit in helpless silence, unable to do anything but wait for their phone screens to light up, for some sign that Blaine and the new little girl recently welcomed to the world are both going to be alright.

* * *

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! :)


	5. Part Five

**Warnings:** Mpreg, infidelity, Eli C, season 4 spoilers

**You may want to read the previous chapter again, as it was edited and the plot changed.**

* * *

This Love Is Not A Victory March

Part Five

Brittany appears in Kurt's doorway on the fourth day, finding him crying over _RENT_, with the lunch Carole carefully prepared and begged him to eat pushed aside without him even taking a bite. "Hi," she says softly, padding across his carpet in her sodden boots, sitting down next to him and slipping an arm around his shaking shoulders. "Blaine's mom got in touch with Sam last night. The hospital called her, and they've gotten the baby stabilised. We can go see her today. Sam and Tina and Artie all really want to come, but Sam and Tina are working and Artie has a Skype interview for a film school in Brooklyn. I thought I should drop by here and see if you want to come and meet Blaine's daughter."

Kurt glances up from the screen of his laptop, blinking lashes clumped together with tears at the earnest-faced blonde, mouth set in a taut line of worry. "I think you need to see him, Kurtie," she says softly, eyes warm with affection. "Even though he's unconscious, I think it'll help to see he's alive. He's not going to let go, Kurt. Not without seeing you again."

With a choked-back sob, Kurt slowly sits up and slides his feet into shoes, Brittany leaning over to switch off the screen, waiting patiently as he reins in his emotions, exhaling shakily as he stands in front of the mirror to fix his hair from the tangle it's become after lying in bed for four days. She slides her fingers between his as they leave, and he clasps her hand tight, letting it ground him from the fear that Blaine may never wake up.

They reached the hospital and Brittany gives Blaine's name to reception, the young woman there waving them through with a sympathetic smile, patting Brittany's shoulder as she gently tugs Kurt towards the room the receptionist gave them directions to, eager to see the baby. When he sees the crib, the tiny baby girl inside stretching and wriggling, so much like Blaine, Kurt drops Brittany's hand and backs away, weakly saying, "I think I'm just going to go and sit with Blaine. I don't want him to be alone."

Brittany nods, her eyes lighting up as a nurse comes over to help her lift the baby from the crib, and Kurt lets the door fall softly shut behind him, eyes blurring with tears. He wants that baby in Brittany's arms to be his, he wants it so badly, if only Blaine had gotten pregnant any of the times the two of them had made love without using protection, instead of with some stupid one night stand that broke them, sent their house of cards tumbling to the ground. She can still be his, Blaine can be his, they can have their family, but only if he wakes up. If he doesn't, Kurt has no idea what he'll do without him.

He has to take a deep breath before opening the door to Blaine's private room, but it still brings a lump to his throat and hot tears prickling at his eyes, seeing him just lying there, wired up to machines, ashen and in a standard-issue hospital gown. Pulling up a chair, Kurt sits down at the bedside, gripping Blaine's slack hand tightly between his, thumb stroking gently over his knuckles.

"I'm still in love with you, Blaine," he murmurs into the silence, the steady beep of the machine monitoring Blaine's heartrate the only other sound. "I never stopped loving you, even when I was so mad at you after you told me you were pregnant. I just had to calm down and think about it and learn to forgive your mistake, and I was ready to come and talk to you and ask you to be mine again when Tina calls and tells me you fainted during a rehearsal and there was blood everywhere and I come back and find out they had to deliver the baby early and she could've died and you could still die."

Blinking away the tears, the crystalline droplets slipping down his cheeks, falling into darkened spots on the pale blue of his jeans, Kurt continues, "I'm so proud of you, Blaine. You did this alone, you carried a baby, and you're still hanging on just like she did. She's a little fighter, Blaine, just like you. I know you can do this, I know you can fight your way out of this, I believe in you. I love you so much. If you can hear me, just give me a sign."

He sits there for what seems like an age, the silence pressing at his ears, so loud it hurts, tears dripping down his face as Blaine simply lies there, unresponsive, unable to hear him telling him everything he needs to know. Then it comes, so faint it might merely be a fantasy, barely audible above the beeping of the machine: "Krrt."

"Blaine?" Kurt gasps in amazement, squeezing Blaine's hand tight. "Oh my God, say it again, baby. Say my name, squeeze my hand, show me you can hear me."

Silence reigns once more, but only for a second, then Blaine's fingers curl slightly against Kurt's palm, the word slipping from his lips in no more than a breath: "_Kurt_."

Kurt almost screams, clinging to Blaine's hand as he shouts, "He's waking up, Blaine's waking up, we need a nurse!" and hears someone running to them, cheeks stretching with a grin through his tears, gazing down at Blaine and feeling like he's falling in love on a staircase all over again.

A kind-faced nurse ushers him gently from the room, explaining, "We need to run some tests on Blaine, and his parents need to see him first. We'll have him ready to see you at the same time tomorrow. Can you wait that long?"

"For him?" Kurt glances at Blaine, lying in the bed with doctors gathering around him. "I'll wait forever."

* * *

When Kurt returns to the hospital the next day, he visits the baby first, seeing on the familiar nurse's face that they're still checking Blaine over. Wriggling in her crib, so small it seems Kurt could hold her in just his hands, this tiny girl is so precious, blinking round blue eyes up at him as he lifts her into his arms, sitting carefully down and making sure he supports her tiny head. They sit in silence for what could be seconds or days, gazing at each other, open and honest and sweet.

"God, look at you," he murmurs reverently, ghosting a hand over her soft dark hair. "You are so beautiful, baby. You look just like Blaine, you really do. I'm sure you can't wait to meet him. He's excited to meet you too, sweetheart. He wanted you really badly. You'll be the most important person in his life. And maybe you could be our baby, hmm? Would you like that, sweetie?"

"Well, I don't know about her," comes a familiar voice, and Kurt wheels around to see Blaine behind him, standing on his own two feet, grinning at him, "but I'd certainly like that."

"Oh my God," Kurt breathes, eyes filling with tears and vision blurring, hiding the bright glow of Blaine's smile. "Oh my God, Blaine, you're okay."

He lays the baby back in her crib and stumbles towards Blaine, legs weak with relief. Blaine opens his arms, expecting a hug, but Kurt's hands encircle Blaine's waist and he tugs him into a fierce kiss, a kiss that means he never wants to let go, a kiss that means he's forgiven, a kiss that means four days thinking he was going to die were the worst of his life. It's a kiss that says so many things he doesn't to how to say, or is afraid to say, or simply can't say without choking up. Blaine kisses back just as deeply, arms wound around Kurt's neck.

When Kurt breaks the kiss, breathing heavy, smiling tenderly as he watches Blaine's eyes flutter gently open, Blaine softly asks, "Does this mean-"

"I'm yours, if you'll be mine," Kurt whispers, gently squeezing Blaine's hands. "I love you, Blaine. I've always loved you, and I don't care who the father of your baby is, I want to be her dad. I'm so proud of you for dealing with this alone, and I want to be here now."

"_Kurt_, I love you too," Blaine whispered, tucking his chin over Kurt's shoulder and clinging to him. "So, should we name her? I haven't thought of anything really, but I like Grace for her middle name, and I want her to be a Hummel-Anderson."

"Scarlett?" Kurt suggests, looking down at their daughter, blinking sleepily in her crib. "She's a fighter, just like you, it seems appropriate. Scarlett Grace Hummel-Anderson."

"I love it," Blaine says reverently, tucking an errant strand of hair back behind Kurt's ear. "I love you."

With a bright smile, Kurt kisses him again, wrapping him close in his arms, their daughter looking on as they silently vow to never let go again.


End file.
